Happy Birthday Erik
by Wandering-Recluse
Summary: Erik's Birthday. It started out as a one shot but increased to something that a will pursue when I have my spare time. Basically a series of vignettes.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! This is a little drabble I wrote for TWS forum for the contest Erik's I heard about the contest I had to write an entry. My muse demanded it. I hope you enjoy!**

It was his birthday.

What was she to get him? It was all a matter of principal she supposed. What to get a man who could afford anything yet bought nothing? He certainly had enough paper and ink! And she had bought that for Christmas. He had not seemed happy.

He had denied he even had a birthday, said it was inconsequential. But she had insisted. It was her dear Papa's birth date that she had finally chosen.

_Papa...?_ Christine mused. Then she lit up-an idea!

She hurried to her father's mausoleum. She knew what she could get him!

* * *

Erik paced his sitting room. She had forgotten, she had most certainly forgotten!

After all, no one could remember a ghost's birthday. She had not spoken about it since he mentioned in passing he had not remembered when his date of birth had been.

_She had insisted and yet she did not remember!_

There could be no birthday for a ghost.

* * *

Christine hurried to her mirror-she was not sure she had enough time. Erik would not be expecting her tonight; it was supposed to be one of her performances. She had switched with the understudy so she could have the night off just with Erik.

She arrived at the house by the lake earlier then she thought she would. She needed to catch him before he left to view her performance.

She arrived at the house and sat outside of the music room, clutching the package she held to her chest. She really hoped he liked it. It had meant the world to her.

She heard the telltale squeak of the door and saw Erik's form shrouded in darkness emerge.

He seemed shocked that she had come.

"What are you here for my dear? Have you forgotten something?" He asked quizzically. She shook her head and thrust the package forward.

"Happy birthday Erik." She said quietly. He seemed even more amazed that she had remembered. He opened the package to see a violin case. He opened it and saw a violin that was obviously well loved but past its prime.

"Christine...is this your father's?" He asked, choked up. She nodded. He sighed and set the violin aside-make no mistake, he appreciated it more than words could express. But that is not what he had wanted.

Christine noticed the expression on his face.

"I am sorry Erik...I thought that you would like it. You were so hard to look for. I-if you don't like it I could take it back..." She said, disappointed.

"Oh Christine! Never think that! I love it!" He cried. Then Christine looked at him.

"What do you want Erik?" She asked. He twisted his hands, hesitant. He asked this once before and it had not been granted.

"Two kisses, one for now and one for later." He closed his eyes, prepared for disappointment.

A set of soft lips met his and only three words were spoken.

"Happy Birthday Erik."


	2. Chapter 2 The Crimson Color

**I know that this was supposed to be a one shot but I was bored in French a while ago so I decided to write another little drabble (it's quite short.) I hope you enjoy! And be on the lookout for more-I'm thinking that I may be adding them whenever my muse demands it.

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"Erik! That is quite enough!" Christine said sharply.

Erik cowered before her, trying to make himself as small as possible. He had tried to be good! He really had!

But he couldn't do it-it was the crimson color, it was addicting. The thought of it was too sweet to resist. This time he had tried-he really had! He didn't mean to!

Christine glared at her husband. Why was he like that? It drove her insane every year! She had tried everything to stop it! Short of physically restraining the man so there would be no more 'accidents'. It was all too much sometimes! It almost made her doubt her choice. Almost.

She eyed the red stain on his shirt. It was going to stain. She knew it. She had tried, and failed, to save many shirts in the past to no avail.

But it had gone on long enough! Christine was fed up! Five years of marriage and if anything it had gotten worse! This was the final straw! It was going to stop. And now.

"Erik,I know how much you like the color red-but leave the icing on your birthday cake alone!"

La Fin

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**That's it! Hope you enjoyed it! And be on the lookout for more in the future! (By the way-I wouldn't suggest using La Fin as an ending. It means 'he is finished or he is dead')**


	3. Chapter 3 The story

**This is for Chapucera-I've been torturing her with angst lately and decided that I would write something fun and fluffy just for her...it doesn't help that I was alone in a classroom for 50 minutes with a computer...I got my social essay done first! I swear!

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"OMPH!" Erik gasped as he felt something heavy land on his stomach. He heard giggling coming from the bundle that had winded him. He glanced at Christine and winked.

"Well my dear wife-it seems as though today is a special day for someone…." He hinted. The bundle that had been buried in his chest popped it's head up and revealed a little boy around five years old with ebony black hair and amber eyes. He had his mother's fine features and ivory skin. His delicate build was contributed to both his mother and his father.

"Papa! You know what day it is!" The boy protested. Erik raised an eyebrow.

"I do, do I?" He asked teasingly. These were his favorite moments-the ones with his family.

"Yes! Please papa." The boy begged. Erik sighed.

"Alright Viktor. Would you inform me of what today is?"

"It's your birthday!" The boy said proudly, obviously he prided himself in his ability to remember such an important date.

Erik chuckled and ruffled his son's hair. "That it is my boy, that it is. Now I believe your mother has something planned for us?" She asked, glancing meaningfully at his wife. She turned a delicate shade of red then realized that was not what he meant.

"We will be going for a picnic on the Champs Élysées." She responded quietly, not wanting to break the peace of the morning.

The boy's face lit up while Erik's heart dropped…he would have to go out in public. He always hated it when his son would be subjected to the whisperings of society because of his father. He tried to make a brave face for his family. It was quite easy when half his face was covered by a mask.

"What's wrong papa?" the boy asked, studying his father. "Don't you want to come with mama and me?"

"Of course Viktor-now go get dressed. It is nearly mid day. We shall have to go soon." He said, trying to usher his son out the door so he could have some alone tome with his wife.

"Wait papa! You haven't told me the story yet! The story of your first birthday!" The boy realized. Erik sighed, hoping that he would be able to avoid this. He sat his son on the bed and kneeled before him.

"There once was a man….he wasn't a man really-he was more of a ghost. The day he became a man and was truly born was the day he met a beautiful soprano…"

**The End**


	4. Chapter 4 The Magician's Birthday

"Corpse!" The Shah of Persia called as Erik stalked by. The magician whirled around, his cape swinging gracefully around him and floated around his feet. His yellow eyes burned like flames.

"You called O Shadow of God?" He asked, his voice bordering on disrespect. The masked man was titled insane by many in the court. Perhaps it was not a deformity at all under the mask that took up the whole of his face. After all-even the Sultana herself had said that the man must be insane. But in mocking the Shah it seemed the man had a death wish.

"The Daroga has informed my advisors that tomorrow is your date of birth. I cannot fathom how he came across this information but I trust it. Is this true?" The Shah asked, in a bored tone. It sounded like he would be anywhere rather than with his magician.

"That is correct. Even 'le morte vivant' can have a birth date." Erik practically sneered. He knew the Shah did not speak French and often taunted him with his ability by speaking French in regular conversation. In this particular context he had referred to himself as 'the living corpse'. It seemed appropriate to him at least.

The Shah cleared his throat.

"Yes, well-I shall make sure that this day is properly acknowledged. You are, as I'm sure you know, the best magician in the Middle East. I cannot have other think that I do not treat you properly." With that he walked off, having no time for such a lowly magician.

Erik thought nothing of this disturbance. The Shah often made empty promises-especially to Erik.

Later, he let himself into the quarters that were assigned to him when he came to Persia two years before. He was preparing for a new show to keep the little Sultana amused.

To his shock there was someone lying on the covers of his bed!

The person on his bed sat up, he recognized her instantly. She was the Shah's favourite concubine from his harem.

Normally this would have been beyond an honour. It clearly showed how much the Shah favoured this magician.

He looked at the girl closely, since he had walked in she had paled and her breathing was shallow. As most people did she showed physical signs of fear.

"C-can I help you master?" The girl inquired timidly, too well trained at her job to back out. That and she rather valued her life.

He picked her up and took her to the sofa, setting her down.

His next trick would be making her disappear.


End file.
